


un deux trois

by orphan_account



Category: Maroon 5 RPF
Genre: Alcohol as Foreplay, Established Relationship, Fingering, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Having A Sexual Identity Crisis While Having Sex, Having Sex with Your BFFs, Making Out, Other, Sexual Experimentation, The Author Actually Loves France, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-14
Updated: 2004-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's good to try new things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	un deux trois

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal. Written for **la_ri_sah**. She asked for either a threesome or Jesse/James. She got both.

There are a couple things that Adam is sure of.

One, if he even _thinks_ the chorus of that fucking Vapors song, it will get stuck in his head. Two, at least one person in every city they play will tell him they're named Jane or know someone who is. Three, the snack machines in the lobby, no matter what godforsaken part of the world they're in, will never have the M &M's with the peanut butter center. And four, he is the Lead Singer of the band.

He's the Lead Singer -- capital L, capital S -- and the Lead Singer does not get fucked. Except apparently, yes, he does. Because James' fingers are pushing into him and Jesse is making this 'shh' noise against his neck and squeezing his dick. And, okay, technically he's not getting fucked. Yet. But he knows what's coming. He watches porn -- not gay porn, except for, like, that one time -- and he knows how this goes.

Oh, does he know how this goes.

Let's try this French wine, Adam. It'll be fun, Adam. It'll be a cultural fucking experience, Adam.

He should have stuck to the fucking pastries.

But... but he has this feeling that even if he had, he would still be in this position. Because Jesse and James have been making eyes at him for a while. He didn't realize it at the time, of course, but looking back now... there was definitely some eye-making. Some 'hey, let's fuck Adam in the ass' eye-making. It's all very clear to him now. They've been planning this. Planning and waiting for the right moment. The right moment with the right wine in the right city. Paris, the city of love and ass sex. He should have fucking known.

Fucking France. Fucking wine. He's never drinking again. Especially never in fucking France. And especially never with these two.

But it's not like he's actually drunk though so... so... he has no excuse for letting two of his best friends get him naked and hard and trapped between them like some kind of obscene, gay sex sandwich. No excuse whatsoever.

So it has to be all their fucking fault.

It has to be. Because it is definitely not _his_ fault. Could never be _his_ fault. Because he's just... not like that. This. Whatever.

Jesse is biting at his earlobe and it makes him shiver and he tries to cover it with a cough but he doesn't think either of them are buying it. Because he can _feel_ Jesse smile when James makes that little 'heh' sound and he wants to tell them to both shut the fuck up but he doesn't. Because James is leaning over him then, his free hand sliding over the side of Jesse's face in a completely surreal way, and then they're kissing. Just like that. Like he's not even here. Here and naked with fingers up his ass and a dude's hand on his dick.

He wants to say something to draw their attention back to him. Something like 'hey' or 'excuse me' or 'focus' but he can't. He _can't_. Because James is kissing Jesse like he's done it a million times before -- like he knows all those little places in Jesse's mouth by heart -- and Adam can't look away. It's... weird. Really, really weird. But really, really... _intense_ too.

So intense, in fact, that it must be making him stupid because that's two times now he hasn't been able to say anything. And, as the Lead Singer, it's his job to always have something to say. It's his job because everyone wants to talk to the guy with the mic. Because he's what everybody sees. He's in charge. He's, like, the figurehead. He's... the Queen of fucking England or something.

And he did _not_ just compare himself to the Queen.

With every fucking second this situation just keeps getting worse. And he just gets sweatier. Because he's totally sweating. Sweating and hard and fucking James keeps... with his fingers... and are they _ever_ going to stop sucking face? He has needs here. Needs that are not being met by them licking each other's tonsils in entirely pornographic ways.

He should have just gone to the fucking museum with Ryan and Mickey. This never would have happened if he'd gone to the fucking museum. There's probably a rule posted somewhere about no gay sex near the extremely old works of art. Of course it's probably in fucking French... who even speaks French anymore? Well, everyone in France, obviously, but they hardly count. What with the fucking berets and neckerchiefs and shit. An entire country populated by guys who look like Freddy from Scooby-Doo only Freddy was a lot less gay. Unless... no. No, no, no. He's not even going to start having doubts about Freddy's obvious heterosexuality. That would just be like asking for a mental breakdown.

He pushes his face against Jesse's neck and tries to do that Calming Through Visualization thing that he saw on TV a couple years back but he can't seem to block out the fact that James' fingers keep sliding in and out of his ass like that. Oh, God, he's got someone's fingers in his ass. And it's not for insurance purposes. And James is so not an MD. Even if he did dress up in scrubs for Halloween.

James had scrubs and Adam... Adam had tits.

"This is about my tits, isn't it?"

He realizes too late that he said that _out loud_ and watches in a kind of shocked horror as they break their kiss and look at him. Or, more specifically, down at his chest. And for one insane moment he has this urge to cover his tits but manages not to. Because he doesn't actually _have tits_. He knows that. No matter how bizarre this situation gets, he knows _that much_ is true. He's got hot, manly nipples and chest hair but he does not... have tits.

James looks up at him with that expression that always makes Adam feel like _he's_ the one that came from fucking Nebraska and, because apparently he's not going to get a break today, he feels his cheeks go hot. "Never mind."

James raises an eyebrow and looks back at Jesse and Jesse -- the traitor -- fucking _smirks_ at James and it must be some sort of strange psychic link... thing they've got going on because then James is gone. Well, not gone gone -- just gone from view gone. Behind Adam gone. In Assland gone.

And that is not at all a comforting thought.

Of the many non-comforting thoughts he's had today, that is probably the _least_ comforting. James' fingers twist inside him again, rub up against that spot Adam really thought was only reserved for doctor prodding but now realizes is a totally fun place, and then they're gone. It feels almost as weird as when he pushed them in the first time, and then even _weirder_ because Adam can't stop himself from wanting them back.

Oh, God, he knew France would make him gay.

He tries to look back to see what exactly James is doing back there but all he can see is the top of his head and his shoulder and, _fuck_ , his dick. His dick. James' dick. And just the idea that James' dick is in the same bed with him makes him harder which is completely and totally fucked up and clearly the result of some of that fucked up French wine. But he didn't fucking drink that much, so it can't be. It has to be... something else. Something he is going to have to think about at some time that is not right now. Or, you know, possibly never.

He forces himself to relax and take a deep breath. But then, hello, James' fingers are back. Only... no, that's definitely more fingers. That's definitely three fingers. And that's definitely not comfortable. At all. And he opens his mouth to say as much, but then he doesn't manage to say anything at all. Again. Only this time it's not because of shock and more because Jesse's kissing him.

Jesse. Is kissing him.

Okay, really, it's still kind of because of shock.

Adam's been kissed by a lot of people in his life but he has never been kissed like this. And that is truly strange because it's not like he's never kissed Jesse before. He has. A few times. And, okay, most of them were jokes but... but... he had no idea Jesse could kiss like this. Hot and wet and he tastes a little like wine but more like what must be James. His hips jerk involuntarily at the memory, thrusting down against Jesse and then pushing back on James' fingers and he did not just moan into Jesse's mouth.

It must have been Jesse. Yeah, that's it, it was Jesse.

Jesse's tongue slides against his and he tries not to think about it but it's kind of impossible not to think about someone's tongue in your mouth when their _tongue is in your mouth_. Especially when it's Jesse and especially when it feels this fucking good. Jesse's hand slides over the side of his face at the same time that James' fingers pull back and then push back in just a little bit further and they have to have some sort of link because no normal people could do that.

He always knew James was a little weird what with his goofy laugh and stupid boots and all but Jesse? Jesse used to be normal. Jesse used to not kiss him and rub his fucking dick up against Adam's stomach. Jesse never used to slide his hand down over Adam's dick in almost exactly the right way. Because Jesse was straight and Adam was straight and straight guys just don't do that kind of thing. Only Jesse obviously isn't as straight as Adam thought.

Apparently _Adam_ isn't as straight as Adam thought either.

Because if he was as straight as he thought he was he wouldn't be kissing a guy and liking it. And he definitely wouldn't be pushing his ass back on another guy's fucking fingers and really, really liking it. And... and that way lies nothing but time off for "exhaustion" and a very unflattering photo of him on the cover of The National Enquirer under the words 'Lead Singer Goes Gay... And Then Crazy! Pictures inside!'

He doesn't want to be 'Pictures Inside!' guy. He doesn't want to go crazy. He just wants to make music, do at least one supermodel from a tiny European country he can't pronounce while he can still get it up on his own, and retire with enough money that they never have to do a reunion tour. But they're making it really hard for him, the selfish assholes.

Stupid, selfish assholes. This is so not going to fly with the TeenBop set.

James pulls his fingers out slowly and Adam tries not to but he can't help sliding his mouth away from Jesse's and whimpering. It would be completely humiliating if he _cared_ but he... doesn't. He really, really doesn't care. Because then he feels James' hand sliding over his back -- probably leaving gross, lube-y hand smears on his skin -- and James' _dick_... right _there_. There there. 'Capital of Assland' there. He has a second to think that, no, James does _not_ have an Assland Work Visa but only a second because after _that second_? All he can think is 'ohgodohgodohgod'.

It's like when he gets behind the drums during "Highway to Hell" and all he can think or feel or see is the beat because if he loses it? The entire song would get fucked up. There's a voice in the back of his head going 'but, Adam, fucking up the song doesn't involve your ass getting fucked' but he blocks that voice out. Because that voice sounds like his mom for some reason and it's really kind of freaking him out.

So he focuses on not fucking up the song instead. Really focuses. Just when he starts to think that this song is really too fucking long, he realizes that, yes, those _are_ James' bony ass hips pushing up against his ass. And, for one deafening moment, it's like he can hear the blood rushing through all their veins and he thinks 'oh' and 'wow' and 'God, I hope his balls don't touch mine.' And then it's over.

Then he can hear himself panting and Jesse is making those 'shh' sounds again and James is saying 'fuck, so tight'. And that has to be the most horrifying compliment he's ever gotten in his entire life. But then James is pulling back and pushing back in and Adam can tell from Jesse's expression that he must be making the most _hilarious_ face of all time and he tries to say 'shut up' but all that comes out is something that sounds like 'shh-ha-uh' which, he's sure, will one day win him a Grammy. If he can just manage to hold on to that thought while the rest of his brain leaks out of his ears.

He presses his face against Jesse's neck and tries to tell himself that this is not actually happening. Even though it is. And he knows it. And, really, if he were to be honest, it's not exactly like he's fighting to get away. Of course, he's not going to be honest though. Because he is the Lead Singer and the Lead Singer does not get fucked and, on the off chance that the Lead Singer does get fucked, he doesn't like it. If there was a Lead Singer rulebook that would probably be, like, number five. Number one being, of course, never fuck your bandmates. Everybody knows rule number one.

Well, except Jesse and James because, apparently, they didn't learn _anything_ from _Fleetwood Mac: Behind the Music_.

He feels what could only be called 'hysterical laughter' bubbling up in his chest but then Jesse is shifting under him and Adam has half a second to think 'no, there's no way that's--' before he has to admit that, yeah, actually it is Jesse's dick pressed up against his and, yeah, actually those are Jesse's fingers curling around _both_ their dicks, squeezing them together and fucking _stroking_ like it's not the most fucked up thing ever.

It's fucked up and it feels weird. Because Jesse's dick is fucking _hot_ and hard and... feels really good. Really, really good. Only, no, it can't possibly feel good. Because it's weird. It's fucking Jesse who he's known since, like, forever. So it must just be that James' dick keeps rubbing that spot that makes him feel like he's getting jerked off from the inside. Only... _fuck_. God, why didn't he just go to the museum? He could be looking at paintings of dead people right now instead of desperately trying to stave off some kind of existential crisis while getting fucked by two guys he's had to share a fucking bathroom with.

Only that's really hard to do when Jesse is jerking them _both_ off and James is pushing into him and making this humming noise and then fucking _licking_ a hot, wet stripe between his shoulder blades and Adam knows that that sound? Was not him. Because he -- Adam Levine, Lead Singer of the uber successful band Maroon5 and totally straight guy -- does not moan when one of his bandmates is jerking him off while another is fucking him up the ass. Only maybe since one of his bandmates _is_ jerking him while another is fucking him up the ass... no. No, he is not even going to think about it. He is not even going to acknowledge it. No. No.

"Oh, God, yeah." _Fuck_. Gold star, Levine.

And James makes a 'ha' noise and Jesse's hand -- the one that isn't doing such fantastic things to his dick -- comes up against the back of his neck and he wants to kill both of them in the most painful way possible. And he will. Oh, he will.

But later. Much later.

He pushes back against James and listens to him make a sound that Adam would definitely classify as a gasp and he can't help but think 'ha, yourself, Nebraska' but then James pushes right back only _harder_. And then he does it again. Adam thinks that maybe he shouldn't have been so smug so soon and he bites down on his lip to avoid more outbursts but it doesn't really help because someone in the room who is definitely not him even though it might look and/or sound like him is making these fucking moaning noises in the back of the throat. And that same someone might be pushing back for more.

It feels like his fucking nose is running but he knows it's just sweat and he knows that it's not just his sweat -- he knows some of it's Jesse's. And that's weird and kind of gross. Having someone else's sweat in your nose is kind of gross. And he shifts up, fully intending to tell Jesse to stop sweating in his nose, but somehow he manages to get stuck just looking at Jesse. Because Jesse is... really hot like this. All sweaty with his eyes closed and his mouth open, fucking _panting_ for it. And then someone is saying something that sounds like 'Jess...' and he _knows_ that it wasn't him and he wants to tell James to shut the hell up but then Jesse is looking at him. And wow.

 _Wow_.

Jesse just looks at him for a minute, before pulling him down with that hand still on the back of his neck and leaning up to press his mouth against Adam's and Adam hasn't even closed his eyes. It's weird to look at someone this close up when you can't stop moving. It hurts his eyes and he wants to close them but then Jesse is pulling back and pressing their foreheads together and moving his hand even _faster_. And it feels so good -- all of it, James and Jesse and all the things they're doing to him -- that he feels like his chest is going to burst or possibly just his brain because he can't fucking process all this shit at once.

Can't process the fact that he is having sex with two guys who know _exactly_ how bad he smells after a show and _still_ speak to him on a regular basis. Can't process the fact that, even though he knows he's known it but just couldn't bring himself to admit it until now, it's obvious that James and Jesse have been fucking pretty seriously for a while. Can't process the fact that he doesn't know if that makes him happy for them or jealous _of_ them.

He can't process any of it so he just stops trying to make sense where there is none and just starts feeling. And about two seconds after he decides that would be a good idea, he realizes that, really, no, it's not. Because there's so much. Too much.

James' rough fingers digging into his hips. Jesse's sweaty hand squeezing down on the back of his neck. James' dick sliding up in him like it fucking belongs. Jesse's hand -- Jesse's fucking _dick_ \-- on his dick. James' hips slamming against his ass. Jesse's fucking heart beating so fast that he's afraid it's going to fucking explode.

And, God, all the fucking _sounds_. The pants and moans and half-choked off words that make no sense at all but have weight like fucking lead.

It's hard to breathe. And he would laugh at that because he's _never_ liked that fucking song but he can't seem to catch his breath enough to start. It feels like the bottom has dropped out of his brain and all the things that used to matter -- all the things that he's craved since this whole stupid famous thing started -- really just _don't_ anymore. Things like limos and expense accounts and awards shows just don't matter when he can't get himself to _stop_ moaning even though he really wants to since he knows that he must sound like a total dumbass.

His foot is fucking cramping and every muscle in his body is aching and he knows that none of them are going to last much longer. And he pushes his forehead against Jesse's until it hurts, squeezes his eyes shut and promises himself that, if he loses it first, he's going to swish both their toothbrushes in the toilet.

James' hands slip down over his hips and around to his hipbones and then James is jerking him back and up onto his knees the rest of the way and Adam thinks 'what--' but that's as far as he gets with that thought. Because then James slams into him, hitting that spot just right and Adam can't even _breathe_ it feels so unbelievable. He clutches at the sheets and Jesse's hand is jerking him fast and he thinks 'stop' and 'wait' and 'damn it' but then James is slamming into him again and doing this _grinding_ thing and then he's gasping loud and pushing back on James' dick and coming all over Jesse's hand and he thinks, yeah, they both suck.

Jesse is shifting under him before Adam even has his breath back, sliding his hand down Adam's back to his ass and Adam thinks 'God, kill me now' as Jesse's fingers bump right up against James' dick pushing into his ass. And Jesse's hand -- that Adam _knows_ has to be covered in his own fucking come -- is letting go of Adam's dick and then moving impossibly faster on his own. Jesse's hips are jerking up and Jesse is making these growling noises in the back of his throat, whispering 'fuck' and 'James' and 'fuck _him_ ' and that? Oh, that's just so many kinds of bad and _wrong_.

But James seems to like it -- which, really, there's no accounting for taste these days -- because he's moaning loud, his hips speeding up until Adam can't hold back the little breathy grunts every time James' dick slams into him. There's this _huge_ gasping intake of breath behind him and then James is fucking leaning on him, pushing deep, and not even breathing. And Adam thinks, fuck, he's fucking _coming in me_ and his dick twitches painfully as he tries not to moan at the thought. Then Jesse is going 'ohoh' and bucking up under him, coming hot and sticky all over Adam's stomach and Adam wonders if they're looking at each other even though it's completely fucked up and he doesn't even _want_ to fucking know.

His arms and legs are shaking and he's pretty sure he's going to collapse on Jesse any second when James sighs and starts sliding his hands over Adam's sides -- fucking _petting_ him. And there is no way he's cuddling -- he's not _that_ gay -- so he musters what little strength he has and elbows James in the stomach. "ugh. Dude, get off."

Adam has to bite his lip when James pulls out and collapses over onto the bed. He pushes himself up on his knees, makes a face at the disgusting mess covering both their stomachs, and falls down on the bed on Jesse's other side. He tries not to think about how much he wants to take a shower because that's way too far away and focuses instead of trying to find a spot on the pillow that _doesn't_ smell like Jesse's shampoo and ignoring the sloppy kissing noises coming from the other side of the bed.

He lies there like that long enough for the come on his stomach to start itching and he thinks that he really needs to get up and pull his clothes back on before the air conditioning kicks back on and he freezes his balls off but doesn't. There's drool pooling on the side of his mouth and he really wants to wipe it away, tells himself that he will in _just a minute_. In just a minute he will wipe away the drool, get up and go take a shower and then go down to the lobby to find some random French chick to reestablish his heterosexuality with. For hours. Yeah, he'll do that in just a minute. Definitely.

It's Jesse's laughter and James' weird 'heh-heh' that jerk him out of a half-dream about eating pastries with Brigitte Bardot and a monkey in a beret. He's wiping the string of drool from the side of his mouth and trying to glare them both into focus when the James-shaped blob says, "So... I've heard they've got some seriously fucked up beer in Germany..."


End file.
